stranger, and such a formidable one as the head of the house, must be
avoided for this one evening. As for Mr. Ried, _would_ they remember
that he was not much older than some of them, and that he was not a
rich young man living on his income, but was earning his living by daily
work? and would they note the contrast between themselves and him?
This was what their hostess wondered. A few moments and then came a
summons to the dining-room. Seated at last, though one of the poor
fellows stumbled over a chair, and barely saved himself from falling.

If you could have seen that dining-table, the picture of it would have
lingered long in your memory. The whitest and finest of damask table
linen; napkins so large that they almost justified Dick Bolton's
whisper, "What be you goin' to do with your sheet?" china so delicate
that Gracie Dennis could not restrain an inward shiver when any of the
clumsy fingers touched a bit of it, and such a glitter of silver as even
Gracie had never seen before.

One thing was different from the conventional tea-party. Every servant
was banished; none but tender eyes, interested in her experiment, and
ready to help it on, should witness the blunders of the boys. So the
hostess had decreed, and so instructed Alfred and Gracie. The
consequence was that Alfred himself served the steaming oysters with
liberal hand, and Gracie presided over jellies and sauces, while Mrs.
Roberts sugared and creamed and poured cups of such coffee as those
fellows had never even _smelled_ before. If you think they were
embarrassed to the degree that they could not eat, you are mistaken.

They were street boys; their lives had been spent in a hardening
atmosphere. Directly the first sense of novelty passed away, and their
poorly-fed stomachs craved the unusual fare served up for them, the